


come on, baby, we better make a start

by earnmysong



Category: To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earnmysong/pseuds/earnmysong
Summary: “You trust me?” The pressure of Peter’s grip increases comfortingly. She leans forward, kisses his cheek. “Well, same with me, and you can handle this.”/ Peter has big plans for Lara Jean, where driving is concerned.





	come on, baby, we better make a start

**Author's Note:**

> _To All The Boys I've Loved Before_ is an absolutely adorable piece of film-making, and it has proven to be endlessly watchable. Please accept the following as my humble addition to the plethora of _driving lessons \o/_ fics that exist at this point and will come to exist in the future. I couldn't pass up the chance to put my personal spin on the situation!
> 
> The title comes from Fleetwood Mac's 'Everywhere', particularly as covered by Paramore; I may or may not have had that version on a loop while I was writing. Additionally, this movie remains squarely in the possession of its creators, who are definitely not yours truly!

\---

The Monday after their slide into official, instead of fake, itemhood, Peter’s Jeep parallels the curb of the Covey residence, and Lara Jean and Kitty – each carrying her own Yakult and Eggo combo, plus half of his doubled order – run for the ride. Peter climbs out and opens the back door for Kitty, accepting his first waffle and smoothie as a toll of sorts, the two of them high-fiving with wide grins.

Peter helping Kitty into the car is different, maybe overly nice, but not weird. Things get really interesting really fast, though, when Lara Jean tries to assume her customary role as navigator and passenger.

“You’re over here today, Covey.” Glancing up with her seatbelt halfway to being secured, she finds Peter patting the driver’s seat. With a surprised squeak and her stupid drink curdling in her stomach, she hangs on to the length of fabric for dear life, like maybe the thing will not only save her from becoming a human projectile in an accident, but also from the horrific situation currently happening.

“Nope.” He widens his eyes and pouts at her. “No.” Kitty strikes up a chorus of _LJ, LJ, LJ_ , Peter’s voice blending in seamlessly at some point. She whirls to glare at her sister so quickly that her seatbelt, upon its release, snaps back hard enough to rattle the holder. “What happened to _Thank Selene you guys worked through your drama. You’ll never have to get behind the wheel again!_ That was twelve hours ago, Kitty!”

Kitty shrugs. “We had a nice text chat, PKav and I.” She looks to him for confirmation. He nods solemnly. “He told me he’d taught himself to drive, and that he’d be more patient with you and less scared by your spectacular fails than Dad or Margot were. Also, he promised he wouldn’t let you maim me.” Peter startles at her choice of words; he’d obviously been much gentler in his description. “I’m hoping he’s a man of integrity. However, in the event that disaster befalls us,” she digs in her backpack, secures her helmet in place, “Old Faithful’s got my back.” 

Lara Jean retrieves Peter’s other Eggo from its perch on the dashboard and counts the blueberries in the dough to avoid reality a little longer, eventually facing him. He reaches for his refill more to leave her hand free to take than for the food. “I can’t kill my first boyfriend, I’ll be a black widow. Nobody else will ever date me.” 

“You can’t be a widow!” Kitty pipes up, ever so supportively. “You and Peter aren’t married yet.” Peter’s face changes color. He’s not pale from shock, she concludes far later than she should; he’s blushing. Kitty, for all her usual astuteness, remains oblivious. “Oooh, a praying mantis would work!”

“Kitty,” she begs, “please, please stop!”

“You trust me?” The pressure of Peter’s grip increases comfortingly. She leans forward, kisses his cheek. “Well, same with me, and you can handle this.” 

“It’s your funeral,” she can’t keep from muttering while they crawl over each other to trade spots. 

“Understood.” They shake on it. “You want me to sign my life away somewhere? I totally will.”

“It’d better not be mine!” Kitty comments simultaneously.

Lara Jean doesn’t hear her. She’s too focused on Peter’s easy remark; the reference to their shared history seems to have a hidden layer underneath that’s only for her and has her breath stuttering for a heartbeat. “I’ll see what I can put together.”

“Awesome!” He thumbs toward the steering wheel. “We doing this?”

“If you insist,” she groans, shifting into drive and wishing for the best.

\---

Kitty doesn’t wait for the car to come to a complete stop outside of the middle school. She scrambles free as soon as soon as she can, slamming her door with a strangled, “3:45? See ya!”

“Bye! Is she- ?” Lara Jean cranes through the open window to follow her sister’s movements. “Yep. She just hugged the flagpole.” Peter’s laughter doubles him over. “You need to experience dry land too?”

He waves away her offer. “You did fine.”

“Kitty, and your mirror, will fight you on that. I’ll buy you a replacement, by the way.” Her head drops to contemplate her boots. “I say we hold off on payment until this experiment has been abandoned and a full list of incurred damages can be compiled.”

He grabs his detached left rearview, plops the rectangle in her lap, nudges into her side insistently so she’ll pay attention. 

(He’d dutifully collected the little traitor from the corner of Sycamore, the sole casualty of a miscalculated turn radius and a desperate attempt to self-correct and spare the downtown area from the effects of her seriously subpar skills.) 

“It came off in one piece. See? It’ll snap right on, good as new.” He touches the dent that the casing acquired in the tumble. “It’ll wear its battle scar with pride.” 

“Uh huh, sure. Whatever you say, Peter.” Flipping the hazards on, she pushes at her door handle, eager to reunite the rightful captain with his vehicle.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He cups her knee gently, stilling her. “No quitting, Covey. I’ve driven with you, but you’ve never _driven_ me, you know? I was getting a baseline. Sorry if you felt like I was watching you drown.” He hugs her around both shoulders in apology, adjusting her in the process. “Now. You ready for some Coach Kavinsky?”


End file.
